Someone Like You (9 page)

“What if he doesn't? Are you going to spend every day waiting for that?”

“I don't know.”

“You need to think about it. And you can always talk to me. Or Jill.” She grinned. “Or even your dad. I'm not so sure about Elvis. I don't think he gives very good ad vice.”

Emily giggled. “He doesn't talk.”

“No, but he has opinions about everything.” Bev squeezed her. “Better?”

Emily nodded, then hopped down. She felt good. The tightness was gone and she found herself looking forward to seeing her dad when he got home. She wanted to see if he really lit up like a lamp when he saw her.

 

“N
EED A RIDE
?” Mac asked when the meeting ended.

Jill picked up the large box containing plastic bags printed with “Los Lobos means fun” and several hundred sunscreen samples, along with the other freebies she was supposed to stuff inside, and sighed.

“Thanks. I don't think I could walk home with all this.” Her expression was an intriguing combination of amusement and frustration.

He grabbed the second box of supplies and led the way outside. “Why didn't you refuse when Pam volunteered you?”

“I don't know. I was caught off guard. Everyone else was doing something for the celebration and I felt guilty because I don't even want to be here. I can't explain it.”

“Maybe it's best if you don't try.”

She laughed as they stepped out into the night. “If I'm going to keep getting suckered into jobs like this, I'm going to have to do something about getting transportation. Either give up on trying to get Lyle's car dented or get a car of my own. But I really liked the idea of revenge. It's a big part of my new five-year plan.”

He unlocked his truck and opened the back hatch. After loading in his box, he took hers. “I don't want to hear about your revenge.”

“Don't be a stick-in-the-mud. I won't do anything illegal.”

“That's how it starts. Then things get out of hand.”

“Ha.” She slid into the passenger seat. “I would like to take this moment to point out that of the two of us, you're the only one who has been arrested for stealing a car.”

“That was a long time ago.” Another lifetime ago. He'd been young and stupid and out for the thrill. In some ways, getting arrested had been the best thing that had happened to him—it had turned his life around.

He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Jill leaned back in her seat.

“Aunt Bev is going to be so happy that I volunteered,” she said. “Maybe I can get her to stuff the bags for me.”

“You wouldn't do that.”

Jill glanced at him and grinned. Her long dark hair swayed as she moved. “You're right, but I will take the boxes into work tomorrow and see if I can talk Tina into it. She doesn't do much work, anyway. This would be a change for her.”

“And for a good cause.”

He navigated the quiet streets. He liked seeing the warm glow of lights behind drapes and the bikes left scattered on lawns. This was his town, his responsibility. He wanted to do right by the people. Jill, on the other hand, counted the days until her escape. If she hadn't had a run-in with Lyle, she wouldn't be here at all.

“So if your soon-to-be ex is so horrible, why did you marry him?” he asked.

Jill shook her head. “Good question. I plead youth and ignorance. Maybe bad timing. We met in law school. Lyle was funny and nice and good-looking enough to catch my attention but not so good-looking that I had to worry he'd have a busload of women following him everywhere. Boy, was I wrong about that.”

“Did he cheat on you before this last time?”

“Not that I know about. I'm willing to forgive some things, but not that. It's just too much of a betrayal. No, at first things were good. We were in a study group. He wasn't the smartest one there, but he did okay.”

Mac turned onto their street. “Let me guess.
You
were the smartest one there.”

She batted her eyes at him. “A lady never studies and tells.”

“Figures. So you got him through law school and then what?”

Jill frowned. “You know, I was about to say I
didn't
get him through law school, but I think you might be right. I helped him with his homework and papers and we studied together for tests. My God, I never got that before.”

He pulled in front of her house. “It's okay that you helped him.”

“It's crazy. What was I thinking?” She unfastened her seat belt and angled toward him. “I got him his job, too. When I graduated first in our class, I had a ton of offers. There were a couple of law firms that really caught my attention, including the one I went with in San Francisco. Lyle wasn't getting many offers and he used to talk about how sad it was going to be for us to be apart. By then we were dating.”

Sleeping together, Mac thought, but he kept that to himself. Lyle had probably been bright enough not to be so drunk the first time he saw Jill naked that he threw up. Mac nearly groaned when he remembered what she'd told him. Talk about bad timing.

“He went on about us getting married,” she continued. “About how great it would be. On my last interview, I told the senior partners I wanted them to hire Lyle, as well.”

She grimaced. “A pretty ballsy move, but I was young, I thought I was in love. They agreed, and he got the job. Then he got me fired.”

Mac unfastened his seat belt and turned toward her. “Any more information on how that happened?”

“No. I sent e-mails to a couple of people. My former assistant is doing some investigating. I brought in more money than any other associate. More than a couple of the partners. I did a good job, my clients were happy and well represented….”

“Do you think Lyle did something.”

“Yeah. Or said something. Lying weasel rat bastard.”

Her energy made the air crackle, and her intensity only added to her appeal. She was a hell of a woman and not one he should be thinking about. Not only did they want different things, but once again he was forced to remind himself that sleeping with the man's daughter was a piss-poor way to thank Judge Strathern for all his help. Plus he needed to spend his free time focusing on reconnecting with Emily.

But he couldn't resist reaching out and gently wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger.

“What happens if you find out Lyle did something?” he asked.

“I'll go break his kneecaps.” She leaned toward Mac. “Want to help?”

“It violates the terms of my custody agreement. Plus I'd have to arrest myself afterward.”

“We don't want that. I guess I'll have to come up with a different kind of punishment.”

Mac wanted to tell her that Lyle had already suffered the greatest loss—he'd lost Jill. Obviously the lying
weasel rat bastard hadn't known a good thing when he'd seen it. But Mac knew.

He wanted her. Funny how long it had been since he'd wanted a woman. Not just in bed, either, although he wouldn't turn that down. He wanted to hear her laughing at his jokes, sharing her opinion on every thing. He wanted to talk about politics and the possibility of an afterlife. He wanted to know if she opened presents on Christmas morning or Christmas Eve. He contented himself with staring into her dark eyes and wanting her mouth on his.

“Tell me what you're thinking,” she whispered.

“Not even for money,” he said with a chuckle.

“Where's the fun in that?”

“There's not going to be any fun.”

She pouted. “Why not?”

“I can give you a list of reasons, but here are the two most pressing. I'm going to guess your aunt and my daughter are looking out the window right now.”

“Emily's only eight and will get bored.”

“And your aunt?”

She leaned closer. “Let her get her own guy.”

A ready-and-willing Jill was more than he could resist. He tangled his hand in her hair and shifted so he could kiss her.

She responded instantly, her warm, soft lips moving against his. Her fingers curled into his upper arms. Their breath mingled and he figured he wouldn't mind doing this for the rest of the night.

As he moved his tongue across the seam, she made
a noise low in her throat, then parted for him. He welcomed the invitation and swept inside.

She tasted of mint and coffee. Heat swirled around them. He shifted so he could kiss her jaw, then he licked the soft skin under her ear. She shivered and breathed his name. From there it was a short journey down the velvety smoothness of her neck to her collarbone. The V of her T-shirt offered possibilities, but none he could take advantage of at the moment. With the console jut ting out between them, he couldn't get close enough, and he growled with frustration.

“What?” she asked as she raised her head. Her eyes were nearly black in the faint glow of the streetlight.

“I want you closer.”

“Me, too.”

She pushed against the seat and promptly banged her head against the roof of the truck.

“I'm horrible at this,” she said with a laugh. “Jeez. Are we too old or what?”

Instead of answering, he kissed her again. A soft but demanding kiss that had her melting in his arms.

“Oh yeah,” she breathed. “This is good.”

He was hard and ready. It had been a long time since his last close encounter. Too long. But his need for Jill was about more than just being without. Still, his daughter was waiting, her aunt might be watching and this wasn't the time.

He cupped her face. “I need to ask for another rain check.”

“You're piling them up.”

“I may collect all at once.”

“That would be interesting.”

“Ready?” he asked, reaching for his door handle.

“As I'll ever be.”

 

N
EARLY A WEEK LATER
, sometime close to midnight, two long, black limousines drove into Los Lobos. Mr. Harrison saw them as he put out his cat for the night. Mrs. Zimmerman heard them drive by as she muted the
Tonight Show
during a commercial break. And the night clerk at the Surf Rider motel nearly had a heart attack when they pulled into his parking lot.

Six men in dark suits stepped out of the vehicles and made their way to the reception desk.

The clerk, Jim, a college student majoring in chemical engineering, felt his knees begin to shake. He was going to die. Right there. And no one would know for hours.

“M-may I help you?” he asked as the men pulled open the glass door and stepped into the reception area.

“We have a reservation,” one of the men said. They were all big men, with dark hair and distant eyes. “Under Casaccio. Six rooms for tonight, all close together, then two rooms for the next week.”

Jim pushed the registration card toward the man and handed him a pen. “If you'll just sign the register?”

“Not necessary,” the man said. “I'm Mr. Casaccio. You can call me Rudy.” He passed over a fifty-dollar bill. “I appreciate your understanding.”

“Of course. Sure. Great.”

Jim shoved the reservation card back into the file and
quickly programmed six keys. It was only when he'd given the men directions and they'd left that he dared to pick up the fifty and tuck it into his jeans. As soon as he got off work, he was going to take that money and get seriously drunk. It wasn't every day that a kid like him faced men like that and lived to tell the tale.

J
ILL STARTED
her second week in Los Lobos by wearing her hair—straight, of course—in a braid instead of up. Yes, it was more casual, but it was also easier and didn't give her a headache by the end of the day. Deter mined to maintain the facade that she was indeed practicing actual law, she still wore a suit, although she was briefly tempted by summer silk slacks and a loose shirt.

She arrived at her office promptly at eight-thirty and started coffee. After going through the mail dropped through the slot in the door on Saturday, she went over her open cases and made notes for the coming week.

There was still the question of what to do about Mr. Harrison's fence problem. Moving it seemed out of the question. After over a hundred years of tacit agreement on placement, no court would side with the old man. But she hated the thought of sending him away unhappy.

Jill was less concerned about Pam's mood, but her natural inclination to give a hundred percent had her searching case law for something on aliens.

Not that she
wanted
to help Pam, she thought, as she leaned back in her chair and stared at the fish on the far wall. They stared back.

“Don't think about her,” she told herself. “Think about something pleasant.”

Mac instantly came to mind. She hadn't seen him in a few days and they hadn't had a repeat of that hot kiss in the car in over a week, but just the memory was enough to make her toes tingle. He was a perfect distraction—and a temptation. At least she had the com fort of knowing she'd had great taste in men back in high school. Of course, things had taken a bad turn with the rat fink lying weasel dog.

Tina arrived about nine-fifteen and walked into Jill's office.

“You know it's almost the Fourth of July,” she said by way of greeting.

“Yes. In a couple of days. Why?”

“I have family coming in. The kids don't have any activities this week. Dave's real busy over at the tire store. A lot of people get new tires before taking a driving vacation.”

Tina's annoyance and impatience were clear. Jill couldn't figure out the cause. “Are you saying you don't want to work this week?”

The other woman practically rolled her eyes. “What do you think?” she asked in a sharp tone.

“Then go home.”

Tina didn't look any more pleased at the instruction. “You're not going to pay me, are you?”

Jill raised her eyebrows. “For not working? No.”

Tina huffed, then turned on her heel and left.

“Amazing,” Jill murmured. She desperately wanted to replace the woman but kept telling herself it wasn't
worth the effort. Not when she, Jill, would be leaving so soon. Patience, she thought. She could survive this with a little patience.

After flipping through more files and doing some research on the Internet, Jill got up for a quick potty break. Liquid in, liquid out, she thought with a grin as she made her way to the bathroom. Once inside the small room, she did her business and turned to wash her hands.

As always, a bright blue-silver fish caught her eye. It stared right at her as she went, then watched while she washed her hands.

“You're really getting on my nerves,” she told the long-dead creature, took the hand towel and hung it over its pointed little face. “Better.”

As she walked back into her office, she sensed movement. Several men in dark suits stood by her desk. They turned as she approached. The taller of the men walked toward her.

“Your secretary wasn't at her desk. We let ourselves in.”

“She's gone for the day.”

“Good.”

 

“I'
M LATE
,” M
AC SAID
as he walked toward the front of the sheriff's office.

“I know, but this is too good to wait.” Wilma trailed after him waving pink slips of paper. “We got a couple of calls from the usual crackpots, but Mr. Harrison never phones anything in. He's a sensible man and not too bad-looking if you like 'em old.”

“Wilma, if there's a point, you have until I get to my car to give it to me.”

“Fine.” She thrust the papers into his hand. “Two long, black limos were seen driving into town late last night. Six men checked into the Surf Rider motel. The night clerk there is the grandson of a friend of mine, so I heard the whole thing from him.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “They were wearing dark suits and pinkie rings.”

Mac didn't need this. The Fourth of July was in two days. D.J., his youngest deputy, still wanted to talk about more firepower to ward off terrorist attacks. A broken water pipe had flooded one of the big beach parking lots and city maintenance wasn't sure they'd have it fixed in time for holiday parking and he was late for his appointment with Hollis Bass.

“What's your point?” he asked as he reached his truck.

“The Mafia!” Wilma sounded more excited than horrified. “They're here.”

Right. “Not every man who wears a pinkie ring is involved in organized crime.”

“But these guys are.”

“Fine. I'll deal with it when I'm done with Hollis. I'll call from the car.”

“Okay. I'll make a few calls myself and see if I can find out where they are.” She grinned. “Do you think they're in town to rub somebody out?”

 

M
AC SPENT
the short drive to Hollis's office thinking about all he had to do that afternoon and wondering how
Emily was. Ever since Bev had told him that his daughter still didn't feel safe with him, he'd been working on different ways to let her know how much he loved her. He thought things were getting a little better. She smiled more and responded to his teasing. They were talking more.

But how was he supposed to convince an eight-year-old that he wouldn't abandon her again? Not sure he was ever going to find that answer, he pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine.

After taking the stairs two at a time, he walked into Hollis's office and took a seat.

“I'm here,” he said flatly.

Hollis smiled. “How are things going with Emily?”

As if he would tell this guy anything. “Great. She's adjusting well.”

“Any behavior issues?”

He thought of the monochromatic food/clothing problem. Emily still required her meals to match her clothing. He and Bev were working together to find creative solutions to the potential difficulties. Thank God, it was summer and there were plenty of fresh fruits around. Berries had saved his butt more than once.

He studied Hollis—the man's small, round glasses, his prissy shirt, the air of “I know everything and you don't know shit” about him.

“We're doing just fine,” he said.

Hollis nodded and made a few notes on his pad. “I'm happy to hear that. She's sleeping well and eating?”

“Sure.”

“I see.” Hollis scribbled some more. “I have some thing I want you to read.” He bent down for something.

Mac expected an article of some kind, but the social worker handed him a book on anger management.

Instead of taking it, Mac leaned back in his chair and tried not to punch the little prick for presuming. “What makes you think I need this?” he asked.

“It's a by-product of what you do. Your high-stress job requires a lot of aggression without letting you act on it. Tension builds up and eventually explodes.” He set the book on his desk and pushed it toward Mac. “I would like you to read the first three chapters by our next meeting.”

Mac could feel an explosion coming on right this second. “Want to explain why you have such a thing against cops? Was your dad one?”

Hollis gave him a superior smile. “There's no reason for you to try to analyze me.”

“This had to come from somewhere?”

“Why? The statistics speak for themselves. I'm trying to help you be a good father, a good citizen and a good person.”

“You've taken on quite a job, then, Hollis,” Mac said as he picked up the book. How dare this kid try to tell him what problems he had. The kid didn't know him from a rock.

But Mac was well and truly trapped. Hollis was his key to keeping Emily for the summer. If the social
worker called the court and said he wasn't cooperating, his daughter would be taken away within hours.

He picked up the book and flipped through it. “I thought our meetings were going to be every other week,” he said. “I just saw you last week.”

“I know, but I'm allowed to change the schedule as I see fit. I'm thinking we'll go another ten days or so. And I will be checking on Emily in the next few days.”

Perfect. With Hollis likely to turn up any second, Mac had no choice but to give in on the food issues. Hollis would accuse him of starving his daughter and it would be all over.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“That's everything. Have a good holiday,” Hollis said.

Mac stared at him. He had about ten thousand tourists showing up in a town with a normal population of less than twenty-five hundred. There would be heat, surf and too much liquor. Yeah, it was going to be a peachy time.

“Thanks,” he said as he stood. “You, too.”

He left the room and walked to his truck, where he tossed the book on the passenger seat. What he really wanted to do was drive over the pages until they were dust. Instead he pulled out his cell phone and called Wilma.

“I'm done with my meeting and heading back to the office.”

“You'll never guess,” she said breathlessly. “I've
been getting calls for the past half hour. The Mafia guys are at Jill Strathern's office.”

 

S
URE ENOUGH
when Mac pulled up in front of the small building with the Dixon and Son sign out front, he found a black limo parked in front. A little unusual for Los Lobos, he thought as he got out and walked toward the door, but hardly reason to assume that organized crime had come to town.

Too many people with too much time on their hands, he thought was he walked inside. When he heard voices, he called out a greeting.

“In my office,” Jill said. “Come on back.”

Mac walked through the fish-filled reception area and into Jill's fish-filled office only to come to a stop when he saw her drinking coffee with two men who looked like extras from the
Godfather
movies. Holy shit.

They were both dark, Italian looking, wearing expensive, well-cut suits and pinkie rings, and an air of menace.

The men stood. Jill pointed to the taller of the two, a man in his mid-fifties. “This is Rudy Casaccio and his associate, Mr. Smith. Rudy, this is Mac Kendrick, our sheriff and a friend of mine.”

“Sheriff,” Rudy said with a smile as he shook hands. “A pleasure.”

Mr. Smith also shook his hand but didn't speak. He was much bigger than Rudy and several years younger, with massive shoulders and hands as big as hubcaps.

Mac didn't know what to say. He'd figured the reports had all been exaggerated and brought on by too many late-night movies. Obviously he'd been wrong.

The Mafia? Here? With Jill?

“Coffee?” she asked. “You can stay for a bit, can't you?”

“What? Oh, sure.”

Rudy pulled up a chair. “Interesting office,” he said as he motioned for Mac to take a seat. “I like the fish, but Jill isn't so sure. She says they smell.”

“They do,” she called from the storeroom. “I'm thinking of bringing in a few candles, but I'm not sure if stuffed-fish fumes are flammable. I'd hate to see the whole place go up in flames.”

Mac accepted the mug she offered. She seemed perfectly at ease as she settled back behind her desk and picked up her own cup.

“Are you in town long?” he asked Rudy.

The other man smiled. “A few days. I wanted to come see Jill. When we spoke on the phone, she said she was fine, but I didn't believe her.”

Stunned, Mac could only stare. “You're that close?”

“Jill is our attorney. She's the best. We had hoped she would make partner this year, but after what Lyle did…” His low voice trailed off.

Jill held up a hand. “We don't know if he actually did anything. Innocent until proven guilty and all that? Re member?”

Rudy shrugged, then put down his mug. “We should
be going. Nice to meet you, Sheriff.” He rose and turned to Jill. “We'll talk soon.”

“Absolutely. Have fun.”

He left with the silent Mr. Smith. Mac turned to Jill.

“What the hell is going on? My office has been getting calls all morning with hysterical people telling us the Mafia has arrived. I thought it was joke.”

Jill could see that Mac wasn't handling this well. “They're not the Mafia.”

He put his mug on her desk. “What would you call them?”

“Businessmen who like to talk about having connections. The key word is
talk.
Rudy has far too many legitimate business interests to have the time or energy for anything else, but he likes to act menacing and it doesn't bother me.”

Mac didn't look convinced. “So you're not involved in organized crime.”

“Of course not. I'll admit Rudy is a colorful character, but he's not in the Mafia.”

“Right. So how connected is he?”

“Oh, please.” She laughed. “He's a sweetie. He's al ways been perfectly normal. He brings me a lot of nice
legal
business and he pays his bills on time.”

“Did he offer to take care of Lyle for you?”

She pressed her lips together.

He swore again. “Tell me you didn't accept his offer.”

“Of course not. Besides, he wasn't really saying he'd
do
anything.”

“Are you willing to test that theory by accepting?”

Actually, she wasn't, but Mac didn't have to know that. “He feels badly for me. He knows how hard I worked and how much I enjoyed the different challenges.”